


Amateurs

by PrancingProngsy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, bank robbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrancingProngsy/pseuds/PrancingProngsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim just needed to go to the bank, really. That's all he needed. But for Jim, that's not all that really happens, is it? No. Some idiots, who consider themselves criminals, have to come around and botch the whole thing up.</p><p>God. Jim hates going to the bank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amateurs

Normally I get someone else to do this kind of thing for me. Boring, tedious... Repetitious. I hate going to the bank. Honestly it's one of the most pointless, ridiculous things I've done, and will ever do. But even as I stand in line, shoe tapping the floor impatiently as the woman in front of me searches her bag for an ID, and the clock makes an annoying ticking sound as it counts down the seconds, I pray for this to be over quickly. I have a meeting with a client soon, and I if I don't have time to change into the proper business meeting attire... I sigh loudly so the woman will know she's causing me an annoyance.

She shoots me an apologetic look and continues to dig into her purse until she produces her ID and shoots me another look. I give her my best annoyed look, my eyebrows go straight up and I lean forward a bit to encourage her to finish her business and get out. She does, just not as quickly as I had hoped. She took her papers, giving me another look and disappeared, looked a bit embarrassed. As she should. It honestly doesn't need to take twenty minutes to cash a check.

From my back pocket I take the bit of paper with the information I needed to give to make a transfer to another account and step up to the counter, where the teller smiles brightly at me. Now I know why it took twenty bloody minutes for that woman to cash her check. It was what she would probably consider a handsome man. Tall, dark hair that was styled nicely, blue eyes. Unfortunately, his charms are not something I am interested in. I don't have time for that kind of ridiculousness and anyway--

He glances over my shoulder as two men walk in, followed by two more. Four in total enter the small bank. I turn, just to see what he was looking at.

Oh.

I internally roll my eyes. These men are here to rob the bank. Of course. I can tell. Probably their first big time thing. Nervous as hell, I can see them. God it's embarrassing. It only takes a moment for them to secure the front door and start pulling out weapons.

Dear god this is awful! Why?! Amateurs! Even did _I_ better on my first job.

These kids hold their guns up high, shooting at the ceiling. They cover their faces and push everyone to the floor. It's a slow day. Amateurs. Oh god. I can't even begin to describe my disappointment. The guy behind the counter presses the emergency button, and he drops to the floor with his hands up. Everyone is scared.

Except me.

Why should I be? These men hardly look like they've ever held a gun before.

I don't even sit down, or even cower. These are new jeans, I'm not getting them dirty. I simply stare, a look of utter disgust is written on my face.

Idiots.

The man who I can tell is the leader of these first timers looks at me with a clearly confused face. Everyone is looking at me. Well. Aren't I popular today?

"I said on your knees! Hands behind your head!" the guy shouts at me. His voice is loud, but not very convincing. I sigh and lean against the counter.

"You're wrong," I say quite clearly, "Clearly you've never robbed a bank before. You're going about it all wrong," normally I'd give advice, but... These idiots don't deserve it. They'll never be successful.

Everyone is stunned. Of course they are. They don't understand. I came to the bank to take care of my business, and these buffoons have interrupted me now I've got to reschedule my bank visit. I glance at the clock, and that meeting with the client.

Damn.

The man holds the gun up to my face in what he thought was a threatening manner. It wasn't. I simply stared at him expectantly. Several moments have passed before he yells at me to sit down again. My frown deepens. I hope these idiots get caught. They deserve it. God damn. I flick a bit of lint off my shoulder and glare at the man,

"You've never held that gun in your entire life have you? That's not how you hold a gun. This is the worst way to rob a bank, and you've never fired, or even trained with, guns before. You guys are a sad and sorry bunch, aren't you?" I shake my head again, "You call _that_ threatening? I'm not the least bit intimidated. These people shouldn't be either. But they're just as stupid as you, aren't they?" the guy is visibly distressed now,

"Who the hell are you?!" he exclaims, trying to make himself seem bigger.

I think, if I had a soul, it'd be breaking right now. These people are clearly inexperienced and it pains my very core. It makes me almost be ashamed to call myself a criminal. This is my competition? These idiots with women's pantyhose on their heads? I check the clock again. Sebastian will be worried now.

The leader seems to think that I'm not worth it and starts to go for the money. By now everyone seems to know and understand that this is about the worst bank robbery ever executed ever. Everyone seems to just kind of... Not know what to do. The threat of being shot is still very real, but the probability of a shot made by these inexperienced arseholes is about one to ten. I'm not worried in the least. The guy behind the counter is though. Or so it would seem. Perhaps he's simply stalling, waiting until the authorities arrive. My guess is a rather worried pet tiger of mine will come first.

This is so poorly executed I simply watch in horror as they _bag_ the money and start to make to leave. My god. These are true idiots I have before me. Inside, my stone cold heart is breaking. Jesus. These people...

The glass in the right door breaks apart as my tiger comes bursting through. His eyes assess first, and he manages to whip out his gun and take down the four useless men before his eyes find me. Almost without thinking I wrap my arms around his neck. I'd cry if I had tear ducts. Well. I have tear ducts. But I don't cry. Sebastian instantly scoops me up in his arms and holds me tight. God we're so domestic sometimes. Everyone is clapping and whistling and standing up.

"You were late..." Sebastian murmurs as I cling to him,

"I got a bit held up..." he can tell I might be traumatized for life. This is what the criminal class comes down to? Such hopelessly pathetic little things like that? God. It's terrifying.

It's not until we're home that we actually talk about it. And the fact that everyone in that bank saw us as heroes, even if Seb did kill a few people. I'm not a hero. I'm a criminal. I'm not a hero. I don't want to be a hero. I will never want to be a hero and that's that. Sebastian understands. He doesn't want to be a hero either.

"Sebastian," I say in a clipped tone, "They weren't even holding the guns right,"

"I know, boss," comes the reply.

"Sebastian. I bet they didn't even plan it out all the way. It's insulting."

"I know, boss."

"Sebastian!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"I'm not a hero!"

"I know, boss, and neither am I," there is a slight pause while he considers something, "But maybe it's okay to be a hero for the moment. Better a hero than a criminal in the presence of the likes of them."

Maybe he has a point.

One exception.

I can be a hero, when the other criminals are fucking stupid. Like those guys were.

**Author's Note:**

> I have like a bajillion of these kinds of things (actually there are only like fifteen) on my fanfiction.net account (Monsieur Prongs is the username if anyone is interested) under the title 'Thought You Might Call.' I'm just too lazy to put them on here. So.
> 
> I'll probably write more of these as the year progresses. These are some of my favorite drabbles. Seriously. Some of my favorite stuff. Jim Moriarty is my favorite.


End file.
